Cowboys are Forever

by Whitley, Hope

  “That he is,” Trey assured Marielle. Her big green eyes were sparking with laughter at Bandy’s tom-foolery.

  “It sounds like fun” Marielle said. “Of course I’ll go. But”—she turned to Bandy—” you’ll have to teach me to two-step. I don’t know how.”

  Bandy’s face creased with pleasure. “Miss Mari, I’d be honored,” he said gallantly. He took off his hat and from the saddle, bowed with a flourish. The small group of ranch hands chuckled good-naturedly.

  “Just let me know when it starts and how to get there, and—” Marielle began.

  “Seven o’clock Saturday night. I’ll pick you up,” Trey heard himself saying. He glanced at Marielle. Her lovely eyes seemed to hold a certain wariness. She nodded slowly.

  “If you’re sure it’s no trouble….”

  “It’s no trouble,” he told her firmly. “I want to.” And heaven help him, he thought as he felt his recent resolution about her slip away … he did.

  Marielle watched the lamb gamboling around the barn lot, and laughed out loud at his antics. He was so cute. And smart, too, she thought, recalling how quickly he’d learned where she kept his food. He ran to the grain bin as soon as she let him out of his stall in the barn every morning, eager for breakfast. She eyed him judiciously. It seemed to her that he had already begun to fill out and gain some weight, just in the few short days she’d had him.

  And no wonder, she told herself indulgently. He ate like a pig. The little animal came to her and bleated softly, looking up at her with big, long-lashed eyes. Marielle leaned down and petted him. She knew that she was spoiling him. But he’d had a hard life for one so young. Bandy had explained to her that this lamb’s mother had been an old ewe that should have been removed from the breeding stock. Past the age of bearing and rearing young, she had died not long after her baby was born, leaving him alone to fend for himself as best he could.

  Well, he was safe and well cared for now, she thought. She’d listened to Bandy’s arguments against bringing the lamb home with her, and understood his point of view. Ranching was a business, after all. Giving special care to individual animals just wasn’t feasible in a large scale operation.

  But, she reasoned, her ranch wasn’t large. Far from it. Trey had taken her to his office and told her everything he’d learned about raising sheep for profit. She had had no idea it was so complicated, or so scientific. As Trey had said, a rancher had to know a lot nowadays in order to be successful—about accounting, agriculture, horticulture, animal husbandry, marketing, and more.

  Once Marielle had seen a few of the facts and figures pertaining to sheep ranching, she’d understood why Trey was so skeptical that she could make a go of it. Her own flock, which had looked so large to her at first sight, was in fact pitifully small. Uncle Dan had eked out a slender living. But as Trey had pointed out, Uncle Dan had done all the work himself instead of having to hire help as Marielle had planned on doing.

  Her spirits sank. How would she make it, she wondered. Back in New York, making excited plans to come out west and take over her own little ranch, she hadn’t factored in things like the multitude of repairs that were needed, or the expense of hiring help, or having to buy hay to get her animals through the winter until she could get her own hay field cut and baled next summer.

  Maybe Trey was right, she told herself glumly. Maybe she should throw in the towel, cut her losses, and go back to the big city. She’d been discouraged ever since she’d been to his office and he’d shown her how difficult it might be. Marielle scratched the lamb’s fleecy head abstractedly, still mulling over the grim reality Trey had revealed to her. Obviously her dreams had been founded on not much more than wishful thinking.

  Suddenly, she was struck by an unsettling thought. Trey had painted a grim picture. Too grim. Was it possible that he’d presented the facts to her as more damning than they really were? After all, she reminded herself uneasily, he did want this ranch. He told her so, right up front. But did he want it badly enough to mislead her about her chances of making enough to get by on? So badly that he’d be willing to deceive her, even intimidate her?

  Marielle shook her head. No. No, Trey wouldn’t do that. She was sure of it. He just wasn’t that kind of person. Neither was Derek, a small voice whispered in her head. Remember him? The man who swore his undying love for you, then dropped you like a hot potato when you were no longer a “viable” partner because you lost your job in marketing?

  Suddenly unable to be still, Marielle began pacing nervously, the lamb at her heels. No, she told herself firmly, it couldn’t be. It wasn’t fair to compare Trey to Derek. Apples to oranges, she thought. Rotten apples, in Derek’s case.

  But … Trey hadn’t made any secret of his interest in acquiring her property. Or missed an opportunity to point out the impossibility of her making a go of it. Or, Marielle remind herself darkly, her unease growing, passed up a single chance to comment on her ridiculous mishaps—holding each one up as an example of her inability to survive up here.

  Tired of pacing around in circles, and chilled from the cold wind, Marielle sank down on a small bench inside the hallway of the barn, the lamb at her feet. Was there a possibility, even a remote chance that Trey was trying to get her to leave? She wondered if her attraction to him was making it hard to be objective. She grimaced wryly. Of course it was! She knew that she was so besotted with the man, so fascinated by his dark good looks; enthralled by his sexy and potent charm … objectivity went right out the window. Marielle scowled, scornful of her own weakness.

  She had to start thinking with her brain instead of her heart, she decided. Had to force herself to take a mental step backward so that she could bring the picture into focus. The real picture—-not some pretty portrayal of how she wanted things to be. She had to assess the situation dispassionately, using logic instead of lust.

  Difficult as it was for her trusting heart to accept, it was certainly possible that Trey was deceiving her about the ranch and her chance of making a modest living here. And she’d been fooled by a man before. It wasn’t just that Derek had lied to her, she reasoned. The point was that she, Marielle, had believed his promise of undying love and fallen for it.

  So, she mused, what did that tell her? Was she really that naïve, that gullible, that easily deceived? Well, if Derek had fooled her so easily, Trey certainly could do the same. And do it better. Simply because Trey had more charm and sex appeal even when he was angry than Derek had possessed while exerting himself to be his most appealing.

  Time, Marielle told herself decisively, time would tell. In the meantime, she wouldn’t let herself get discouraged about her prospects. Especially, she thought, brightening, if her burgeoning career as an illustrator got off the ground. If that particular dream came true, she wouldn’t have to depend on the ranch for an income, anyway. She could just live up here in this wild, beautiful place and enjoy it.

  Marielle shivered, suddenly aware of how very cold it was out here. She stood up and headed for the house, then stopped when she saw Trey’s truck pull into the drive. He got out of the vehicle and came toward her, his long legs eating up the distance between them swiftly.

  She watched him, taking in the sight of his lean, muscular body striding in her direction. Hat pulled low to shield his face from the wind, both hands in the pickets of his shearling jacket, he was masculinity in motion. While she watched, he looked up and flashed her an irresistible smile. Marielle’s own face lit up in pleasure, her earlier qualms instantly forgotten. Realizing how quickly she was backsliding, she brought herself up short.

  Honestly, she berated herself, all he had to do was smile at her once and her resolve to be rational instead of emotional went right down the drain. Peter J. Masterson III was just too darned handsome and charming for his own good … or hers. Marielle hoped he didn’t have a bridge for sale in Brooklyn—she’d probably buy it.

  “Hi,” Trey said, stopping in front of her. “I stopped by to let you know there’s a winter stor
m warning for tonight.”

  “Yes, I heard that on the radio this morning,” Marielle replied. She glanced up at the steel-gray sky. “Do you think it will get bad?”

  “It could. Weather is pretty unpredictable in these mountains. Sometimes we get snowed in above the windowsills up here when there’s hardly any accumulation down in Jackson.” Trey glanced around appraisingly. “Have you got troughs filled with water for the horses?” He glanced won at the lamb standing next to Marielle. “And your little friend here?”

  “No, the troughs aren’t completely full,” Marielle answered. “Why? Can’t I still water them every day even if it snows?”

  “If we have a bad enough storm, the electricity will go off,” Trey said. “It can stay off for days, a week, even longer.”

  Marielle looked at him, perplexed. “What has the electricity got to do with the water?” she asked.

  Trey stared at her briefly before replying. “Marielle,” he explained patiently, “the water comes out of the well by means of a pump. The pump is run by electricity. Without the pump, how do you propose to get the water from the well—haul it up with a bucket? Your well is almost eighty feet deep. Think about it.”

  Marielle fumed silently. He didn’t have to talk to her as if she were slow-witted just because she hadn’t lived up here long enough yet to understand how everything worked.

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” she acknowledged stiffly.

  Trey took off his hat and raked his long fingers through his black hair, then heaved an audible sigh. “No, you didn’t,” he told her. “And I’m willing to bet that there are a whole lot of other things you haven’t thought of, either,” He glanced around again, then started toward the house. Marielle followed hurrying to keep up.

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “Like making sure that there’s plenty of wood under that shed outside the back door, for starters,” Trey said over his shoulder, on his way around the house to the backyard.

  Uh-oh, Marielle thought guiltily. Actually she’d let the shed run quite low on firewood. She’d been intending to restock it, but had been so caught up in her painting, trying to get samples of her work ready to send to New York, that she hadn’t gotten around to it.

  Trey peered inside the lean-to attached to the back of the house and swore. “Damn it, Marielle! It’s almost empty.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ll need to have water drawn up for yourself, too. Go ahead and start getting that done while I get some wood in here.”

  Well, of all the nerve, Marielle thought angrily. Who did he think he was, bossing her around like this? “I can get my own wood in, Trey,” she informed him huffily. “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of things that you need to be doing on your own place.” In other words, she added silently, go home.

  He glared at her, a muscle twitching in his square jaw. “Listen, Miss High-and-Mighty,” he said, “If you’re trying to say that you can take care of yourself, save your breath. I think we’ve already established that you can’t. What would you have done if I hadn’t come to see about you today? … .If you woke up tomorrow morning without electricity and found the whole place buried under several feet of snow? Huh? Have you got enough Perrier stockpiled to keep you and the animals going indefinitely, Marielle?”

  “There is a huge pile of firewood stacked right back there, Mr. Know-it-all,” Marielle flashed back angrily. Oh, great, she thought. They’d both resorted to name calling.

  Trey rocked back on his heels and surveyed her, a sardonic expression on his handsome face. His mouth quirked in a derisive grin. “Uh-huh,” he agreed. “There sure is. Got a snowplow handy to uncover that woodpile when the snow gets up taller than it is, Mari?”

  Marielle stared mutely at Trey. Checkmate, she thought in resignation. She couldn’t argue with him. He was right. “Okay,” she said shortly. “Point taken. I’m a little inexperienced. I’m a city girl, remember? I’ll learn.”

  Trey laughed shortly. “Yeah, if you live long enough.” He shook his head wearily. “Marielle, you just don’t get it. This is hard, unforgiving country. And bad weather doesn’t make allowances for a person’s ignorance about how to survive in it … or show any mercy because of it, either. Your first mistake could be your last.”

  Marielle listened, subdued by the gravity of his words. She did have a lot to learn—more than she’d realized. And her animals depended on her, even if she was living alone. The lamb nuzzled against her leg and she leaned down to pet it. Trey heaved a clearly exasperated sigh.

  “I rest my case,” he stated flatly, eyeing the young animal. “You’ve brought that animal home and made a pet out of something that wasn’t intended to be a pet. Ranching is a business, Marielle. It has to be taken seriously. A lot of things have to be taken seriously up here. You can’t just spend your time playing with that lamb and waxing poetic about the beauties of nature—or that nature itself will chew you up and spit you out.”

  Marielle’s temper rose anew, but she forced herself to conceal her ire. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d discouraged and frightened her … again. Which, she thought in mounting fury, was possibly exactly what he was trying to do- to discourage her, frighten her, so that she’d give up and sell the ranch to him. She’d tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but here he was again … .pointing out all the reasons she couldn’t last on a mountain ranch.

  To her horror, she felt perilously close to tears. In addition to her righteous anger, she also felt hurt.

  She titled her chin rebelliously. “Are you through?” she asked. “I’m cold and I want to go inside.”

  “No, ma’am, I’m not through,” was Trey’s laconic reply. “If I don’t get you some wood up in here before that storm moves in, you’re liable to get a lot colder. So, since you’re going to ignore any advice I give you anyway, you may as well go on in the house. I’ll see to the water at the barn, too.”

  He removed his hat with exaggerated courtesy. “Since I’m obviously not going to get any appreciation for being your unpaid hired hand, Miss Stevens, do you think it might be possible for me to get a hot cup of coffee when I’m through?”

  Marielle gritted her teeth. “Of course,” she grounded out through clenched lips. “I’ll put some coffee on now.” She whirled and headed toward the back door, head high. She stopped. “Thank you,” she said coldly, without turning around, then resumed her indignant march to the house.

  She heard Trey chuckle, then begin laughing outright. Ooohh, she fumed, thoroughly incensed; now he was going to add insult to injury by laughing at her. Stung, she pivoted to confront him. “What’s so funny? She snapped.

  “Mari had a little lamb,” Trey said, still laughing, “and everywhere that Mari went the lamb was sure to go.”

  Marielle looked down at the source of his mirth. Forgotten in her hurt and anger, the lamb still trotted right at her feet, matching her step for step. Her eyes narrowed in fury. She was tired of Trey making fun of her. It was about time he was taught a lesson.

  “Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater—had a wife and couldn’t keep her,” Marielle taunted. No sooner were the words out of her mouth than she regretted them. Regardless of whether he wanted to buy her out or not, he had helped her a lot … shown her generosity and kindness. He didn’t deserve the kind of low blow she had just delivered.

  Marielle saw the laughter fade from his handsome face. He regarded her gravely. “Ouch,” he said quietly.

  She couldn’t stand it, she realized. Couldn’t bear to hurt him, to be the reason for the smile to die in those deep, dark-chocolate eyes. She flew across the space that separated them and, without hesitating or stopping to think about her actions, wanting only to comfort him for the pain that she had inflicted, threw her arms around him.

  “Trey,” she said softly, “Trey … I’m sorry. That was uncalled for. Please forgive me. I—I didn’t mean it. With these words, the tears so close to the surface welled up and overflowed. Marielle buried her face on Trey�
��s chest and wept. His arms encircled her and he held her close to the warmth of his strong, sheltering body. His big hands smoothed her hair and he murmured soothingly.

  She felt a peace come over her, a safe, secure feeling of complete contentment. It seemed to Marielle that some vague, unsettling feeling, some unresolved inner conflict, was laid to rest. Suddenly, she knew that she was wrong to harbor any suspicions of underhandedness about this man … .that he was everything that a man should be … .and more. Much more.

  When her tears subsided, Trey held her away from him slightly, and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. With one hand, he brushed the trace of the tears she’d shed from her cheek, then leaned down and brushed her lips in a feather-soft kiss. “You don’t owe me an apology, Mari. I was too hard on you, and I’m sorry. If I’m going to dish it out, I should be prepared to take it. Will you forgive me?”

  Overcome by emotion, Marielle could only nod dumbly. He stared back at her, his fathomless gaze seeming to convey a message of great importance. She saw the telltale twitch in his rugged jaw, and then he pulled her to him again almost roughly, his arms tightening around her for an instant like bands of steel. He buried his face in her hair, and breathed deeply. When he spoke, his voice was deep and rough with emotion.

  “I tend to overreact sometimes when someone I care about is in a dangerous situation. The thought of anything happening to you, Marielle Stevens—it just makes me crazy. Now,” he said, turning her to face the house, “You go put that coffee on. We both need it.”